


The World Will Know (That We've Been Here)

by Kennzierella



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: (Jack and Davey establish a relationship), (My attempt at tying things together), Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Movie, Post-Strike, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kennzierella/pseuds/Kennzierella
Summary: "What made you come back, Jack?""I still have things to do here," the Newsie explained in response. "And besides," he continued, "my family is here."





	The World Will Know (That We've Been Here)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy! Like always, tips/advice are welcome (as well as any critiques). <3
> 
> (More detailed Summery: This story takes place later in the night on the day the strike ended. Jack confesses his feelings, and David does the same. Sarah is referenced, but not listed as a character in the tags because she was not physically apart of the written piece herself. Also, Jack and Sarah discussed their relationship prior to where the story takes place, as to why it is not written grahpically.)
> 
> * - (Not my original work; this line was taken from the 1994 film "Little Women" directed by Gillian Armstrong, based on the novel of the same name by Louisa May Alcott.)

" _What made you come back, Jack_?"

 

Surely, had it not been for the thoughtful pause that came before it, the sigh that escaped Jack Kelly's boyish lips would have faded into obscurity. "I still have things to do here," the Newsie explained in response. Smoothly, he reached into his shirt pocket, and pulled out one of the loose cigarettes that were stored inside. "And besides," he continued, reaching again into his pocket, this time to get his small matchbox, "my family is here." 

With the box now in hand, Jack plucked out a match, struck the courser side of the carton, and brought the flame against his cigarette, allowing for it to lite. In waving his wrist, the boy sent the flame to smoke, effectively killing its trace on the used matchstick. Jack wrapped his mouth around the paper casing of his cig, inhaling and exhaling soundly, calmly. After a few puffs, he extended his hand, and his cigarette, toward the person standing beside himself on the fire escape. That of whom he was comfortably pressed against, shoulder to shoulder. He offered the smoke most tenderly, gently smiling.

At first, the other in company, the boy called David, did not take notice of Jack's generous offer. Instead, he was caught in the daydream known as the present, or rather, the reality of his new circumstances. The strike was over. The Newsies had won their battle against the Goliath of their generation: Mr. Pulitzer. David laughed, to himself, of course, at the banal comparison. Sadly, to his own shared disappointment, he discovered that there were no David's in the Newsies; guys who got all they deserved after they fought the good fight. They would still be turning out papers by the break of light the next morning. But, in looking over at Jack, his best friend, David considered himself to have come close to such reward. 

"Jack, I'm serious," David eventually articulated, all the while stealing the smoke from Jack's fingers. Yet, when their flesh touched, he did not pull away immediately. Rather, David allowed for his hand to linger against Jack's own, taking and providing warmth alike. David could feel the tension that arose from his friend's fingers; it were as if they were going to snap at any moment. He departed his hand with caution. 

Straightaway, David brought the cigarette to his mouth, and wrapped his lips around it. He inhaled his drag sluggishly, simply unhurried, and did likewise upon his exhale. The boy stole another round without question; taking in and breathing out much the same as before. If only his father were to see him, David thought as he blew the smoke from his lips. Undoubtedly, his beloved parent would not be happy, understandably so; but he would understand, in some way, yes? One smoke was not to be the end all of everything. This was no pathway to an unproductive, decadent lifestyle; David would head soon back to school, just as he promised. And Jack, good old Jack, the boy who swore that he would spend the night at the Jacobs' place, a surprising first to the second time around offer, would never let him get caught up in that. Jack was a good friend, a great friend; David hoped that he were viewed the same. 

"I  _am_  being serious," Jack defended, affectionately bumping the other with his body, smirking slightly. David looked real funny smoking a cig, and Jack could not believe his eyes as he watched him do so. Every few intakes, Jack observed, David would cough, sniffle, and then go at smoking again; a true beginner. But that did not bother Jack all that much. Something about it was intriguing, interesting; for awhile it was a source of entertainment for Cowboy. Though, he soon looked away, deciding that if he were to be caught staring, David would have branded him a deviant.

In turning away from David, Jack looked out above himself, leaning against the railing that was in front of himself on the fire escape. The sky, formally of a light blue, had now faded to a deepened, hard navy. Jack detected various purples and pinks in his dedicated search, concluding that it was of the sun's incontestable work. If he were smart like his pal were, Jack reckoned he would know just why those changes were. For all he could tell, it was just the switch between day and night, the sun coming and going, and the effects of it. Scientifically, he had no clue; the sky's significance to him was that of a natural, completely pure clock. 

David, after time passed, admitted, drawing Jack out of his examinations: "I would have missed you, if you left. Would have been awfully lonely, for sure." 

"Dave, I would have come back, you know," Jack told him, wrapping his arm around the other's shoulders, pulling him tightly against himself. "I would have seen you. Visited, or something."

"Les would have liked that, you coming back to say 'hello'," David hummed, acknowledging both Jack's reassurance and his embrace. "Myself, too, obviously. Oh, and Sarah. I'm sure she would have liked it as well. Seeing you and all." 

Oh, Sarah; the girl who David adored immensely, yet who he held the most raging jealousy against. It was not fair to feel such ways, he knew. But, he would like to have thought of them as justifiable emotions. She was everything he wished of himself to be; beautiful, kind, intelligent, tough, and most of all, obedient.  He wished to be obedient, to have the power of having none at all. To not want to fight against every little vexation that may come. She was wonderful, so wonderful to David and Les. Such a gentle, goodhearted sister. She had everything David seemed to personally hold longing for. Or, explicitly, the _person_ he were longing for. She had Jack, in whatever way they were together in at this point. 

David breathed deeply, finding it harder now more than ever to deny what he had been experiencing for some time. He never planned on this, this was not something he set out to do. All he wanted to do was sell his papers and earn an income. But David was not going to deny that this was something that came to be; regardless of how unsafe it was, he could not. For one thing, the risk of mental insanity ran high; secondly, was it truly as dreadful as he been told? No, he deduced, it was not. This was a good thing, _love_ is most always associated with good things. And David, for all it was worth, knew it was love that brought him the greatest friendship he had ever known. It aided in the end of Pulitzer and his crooked newspaper scheme. Nothing of evil could have done as much, never. 

Smiling softly, pushing his worries to rest, David handed the cigarette back to Jack. The boy retrieved the cig smoothly; and yet, when his fingertips met David's, there was hesitation. Appearances alone exposed Jack; it were as if breaking apart, ending this connection with David, was the worst of anything imaginable. But, like all good things, it had to end, and Jack departed his hand. Nevertheless, regardless of Jack's strange methods in the art of smoking, David was grateful to have him. He was glad that Sarah had him too. Someone like Sarah deserved to have someone like Jack; she deserved happiness. And David figured that sacrificing his own for his sister, was worth the pain. 

With David watching him, Jack again brought the cig to his mouth, not being steady on his intake. He welcomed the sensations and blew out the aftermath smoke just as quickly as his welcoming of it.  "I'm not so sure about that, Davey," he stated firmly, referring to the other's statement. Jack took a final puff, savored the taste, and swiftly stomped the cigarette under his boot when he decided he had had enough to smoke for the night.

"What do you mean?," David asked, finding Jack's initial response odd.

"Um," Jack stammered, "I don't think your sister would _want_ to be seeing me. We, we kind of hit a rough spot."

"'Hit a rough spot'? Jack, how could you hit a rough spot in less than 24 hours? I mean, you guys, you know; you kissed. I assumed things were alright. Looked fine from where I was standing." 

David continued, chuckling, "did she tell you that you were a bad kisser or something? Cause, you shouldn't worry about it. Honestly, Jackie, my sister has never had a boyfriend. I don't even think she knows what a good vs bad kisser is yet. You two will just have to go on more dates and then she'll see-" 

_"I love you, Davey,"_ Jack said, suddenly bursting through. 

Anything else that David was going to say prior, was now shot down, killed like a rabid mutt. His words faded off his lips, right into oblivion. No, there was no way; Jack would never say that, not in that context. "What?," questioned David, his most brilliant answer being put to use. 

David figured that Jack saw his face, saw his confused, uncertain expression, for he unhooked his arm from around his shoulders, and placed one of each hand on either instead, holding him there. "Dave, I love you," Cowboy repeated, his hands squeezed against the other's body and shirt. And there it was, those eyes. David gazed into them, those puddles of brown, praying that he would find some cruel, immature joke beneath them. But nothing came out. Jack just looked right at him as if his whole life depended upon his response, his declaration. 

"No, Jack. You can't, not like that, no. What about Sarah?," persisted David, his own eyes had gone sappy. 

Jack laughed mightly and said, as if it were as clear as day, "she doesn't want me. Not anymore. Not after the things I told her."

"What did you tell her? What'd you say, Jack?" 

One last laugh was huffed out by Jack before the newsie cleared his throat. His hands shifted from David shoulders to his cheeks, cupping his head between his palms. David could feel the heat building; his own face unmistakably turned crimson. Jack began: "I told her that if I was going to be with her, in that way, than I would be doing the both of us a great disservice. She would be wasting her time on me."

"I told her I was in love with you," he whispered, "I said I didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you, Dave. I told her that I was real sorry. Sorry for kissing her, and real sorry for leading her on. I just, I didn't know what I wanted, and it took me almost leaving to finally figure it out. To finally make sense of what I've been feeling since I bumped into you, literally. Yeah, sure, I want Santa Fe, but I want you too. I want you, Davey." 

David was having trouble breathing; the outside air had gone unexpectedly heavy, annoyingly thick. All those times; the touching, the holding, the smiling. They all meant something. Jack taking the role of a scab, protecting David, that meant something too. Everything started making sense, and David for once did not feel so oblivious. He blushed, his lips quirked into a grin: "Truly?"

Dipping his head, Jack nodded, his face matching the other's in flushed color. Jack wanted to do something. He could not take just standing there, merely holding David. He wished for, he wanted more. Leaning in close, resting his lips along the curve of David's ear, the boy murmured: _"I have loved you since the moment I clamped eyes on you."*_

Jack retracted, and David gulped softly; they were now eye to eye, brown and blue as one. There would be no greater moment, Jack decided. If he were so bold, so brave, he must do it now. After all, he and the other Newsies defeated Pulitzer; this could not be far worse. _This would be wonderful_. 

"Jackie," David said, "I, I love you, too."

Now that, those three words, made all the difference. Jack had the confirmation  of David, and David, that of Jack. There was no more hiding, no more dancing around their affections. They both knew. Sarah, she knew; and Jack was delighted in that. Even if she were to go off, reveal what Jack had voiced, at least someone had the knowledge of how much David meant to him. His hands loosened from David's head, and fell right around his waist, drawing him in. David likewise changed his position, placing either hand along each of Jack's shoulders rather than just dangling as they once were. 

David asked, grabbing handfuls of the fabric of Jack's dusty old shirt, "may I kiss you?"

"You've never had to ask." 

Much to his own surprise, David discovered it was he who was the leader of this kiss, not Jack. Jack just stood there, hooking his head to the side as the other lifted his mouth closer. And not wanting to cause his partner too much strain, he bent down, adjusting his head so that both were comfortable. David could feel his breath, he could taste the cigarette that had hung from Jack's mouth. In like manner, Cowboy felt the shaking of David's respiration; they were nearly there. 

And finally, they made it. Their lips met, their bodies locked tight against one another. Jack pressed into David's mouth, and David happily fell into the submission. He molded his movements to follow that of Jack's, a fragile twisting of their mouths, a dance. Languidly, only to fall back into another kiss, Jack parted from David. The flesh of his lips burned, but the warmth was not unpleasant. Jack enjoyed, and wanted to continuously be vulnerable to it, David's delicious touch. And David, who was amazed at how glorious one simple kiss could be, felt much the same. He could not help the smile that spread. 

Bringing them together, hugging the other, Jack encased his friend in a fixed embrace. Part of him did not ever want to let go, the newsie wanted to remain as he was for always. Just having David, holding him, feeling his chest rise and fall in an attempt to catch his breath; that was heaven on Earth for Jack. Nothing could compete, not even Santa Fe. _This was his dream: and it was called David Jacobs._  

David purred as his own arms looped around Jack, caging themselves along the broad middle of the boy's frame. Despite being shorter, David adored cuddling like this; he relished in the feeling of having Jack so tight to himself. He concluded that the sentiment was mutual, for the taller boy started to rub up and down his spine, burying his nose in his curly locks. 

"Jack," mused David, nuzzling softly against the boy's neck, "what does this mean? What, what does this makes of us?"

Jack remarked, chuckling: "I want you, like I said before I want you. I need you, Dave. I want to be with you. I want to be with you always, everyday. I know it'll be hard, and I know sometimes we'll have to be all secretive, real careful. But I don't care, I'll go through whatever I have to. I want us. I wanna grow old with you. I need all of that. Of course, if you'll have me."

"I've put up with you this long, what's a few more decades gonna do?" 

Jack broke the caress, separating slightly from their entanglement, and stared deeply into David's eyes; everything was just as it should have been. _This was it_. "I love you," he said, grinning brightly. 

"I love you too," David repeated, a parallel of the most perfect variety. 

"I suppose we should end in now, huh?," he offered, "smells like ma just finished with, what is that? Must be the soup."

"Yeah, getting real late, and don't you have to be in bed soon?," Jack snickered back. 

"Funny, Jack. And you keep talking like that, you're gonna be sleeping on the floor. Don't forget; you promised me you were staying tonight."

"I am, I am, Dave. Have I ever broken a promise before?" 

David smirked, and removed himself from Jack's arms so that he could instead take his hand. Moving toward the window, he inclined, "you think Sarah's still upset? If things aren't good-"

"Davey, she's fine, trust me. It'll be weird at first, but, it'll be alright. We got everything out in the open, anyways. Right by the Governor, too. Ain't that something."

Lifting the window up, and setting the scents of veggies and broth flying, David stepped inside. "And besides," Jack recommenced, dragging David's head back to his attention. "I think the world would love to get to know _**us**_."


End file.
